


Perspectives

by Ausp_ice



Series: Ascendant [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Both are animated a bit, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Major Character Injury, Memories, Recovery, Temporary Character Death, There is Cover Art, There is another art as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ausp_ice/pseuds/Ausp_ice
Summary: As everyone adjusts to Connor being back, Hank reflects. Hank remembers.
Relationships: Connor & Elijah Kamski, Connor & Gavin Reed, Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Ascendant [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629997
Comments: 20
Kudos: 96





	Perspectives

**Author's Note:**

> I may have gotten a little carried away with this one. There was just... a lot of content to cover. It's kind of two interwoven stories at once, haha! Past and present.
> 
> Me drawing Hank was me realizing I didn't know how to draw Hank, and thus drawing him with his entire face concealed HAHA
> 
> I've posted the cover animation [here](https://sta.sh/01vrhcvidbcv)!
> 
> Bit of a warning for the second artwork: there's some open chassis, exposed hearts, and a bunch of thirium. Not too gory, I think, but I suppose a warning is good.

* * *

Seeing Connor again is like taking the first breath of fresh air after spending years underwater.

Years? Year. Has it been a year?

It's been too long. He can feel the tremors in Connor's limbs, how he shudders and breathes, until Nines comes forward and wraps his arms around them. How his shaking bleeds away.

"I'm home," he says. 

And he sinks, bonelessly, slumping into their arms as all the strength leaves his body. 

Hank's heart leaps into his throat.

"It's okay," Nines says hurriedly, as he tightens his hold, preventing Connor from slipping out of their embrace. "It's okay, Hank. He may still be recovering. He seemed to… for lack of better terms, fall asleep on the ride back, as well."

Hank—breathes. He brushes away the stray tuft of Connor's hair (fruitlessly, it always goes back), before moving his hand to the back of the kid's head, cradling him closer so that Hank could see his face. Relaxed, peaceful, content. Unbothered as always about coming back from the edge of death.

"Hank," Nines murmurs softly. "I'll… take him to his room. I don't know how long it'll be before he wakes up, but if you want to stay with us…" 

Us. Right. Of course Nines would stay with him. It took Hank a moment to make that connection. Everything still seems a little off-kilter, strange, unreal. "I'll stay," Hank says. "With him. You. Until he's awake again."

The smile Nines gives him is one of the ones that always make Hank feel undeserving. 

* * *

_It haunts him, the memory. Memories. So many. So many times he could have been gone—_

_taken—_

_forever._

* * *

"Hank…? Nines?"

The soft voice pulls at his awareness, and he realizes, then: he must have fallen asleep. Hank recalls… Nines had shed off Connor's and his own jackets, before lowering his brother into his bed and pulling the covers over him. He'd exchanged a glance with Hank—and then climbed on top of the covers himself. Hank had sat on the edge of the bed, at first, but as the hours ticked by, he'd found himself drawing closer, until he was lying next to them, as well…

And here he is.

"Connor," Nines's voice is quiet—gentle, almost. 

Hank opens his eyes in time to see their hands curl around each other, the soft blue glow of interface shining through the glossy white of their exposed casing.

They did this, a lot, before. Hank always felt like there was something _more_ there, beyond his human understanding.

Connor breathes out slowly, eyes slipping shut for a moment, before turning his gaze to Hank. He lifts a hand to reach for him as well, and Hank takes it with both hands, squeezing tightly.

"Back with us?" Hank manages despite the lump in his throat. 

Connor smiles. "More or less," he says, and Hank doesn't have the brainpower to parse what that means, even as Nines's LED flickers, "I'm sorry it took so long."

Hank shakes his head. "You're back. You're back, and that's what matters."

* * *

_The first time he died was arguably the easiest._

_Hank was shocked, sure—shaken, definitely—but he'd still thought of him as a machine, then._

_So when the android in the interrogation room shot Connor, and then himself, Hank was okay. He was okay, then. It was just—a machine. That looked like a human, that didn't look like it had a soul until he realized what it looked like with a bullet in its head._

* * *

Having Connor back still feels too good to be true. Like a beautiful dream that he never, never wants to wake up from. 

Connor touches a lot of things these days. Even more than before his… absence. Hank finds him running his hands through the soft blanket on the couch, completely fixated. When they hug, Connor would linger, squeeze just a bit tighter, hold on just a bit longer. When they, the three of them, curl up together on the couch or even on one of their beds, he runs his fingers across the seams of their clothes, the edges, trailing touches over any interesting textures he finds. 

More than a few times, Hank would find Connor and Nines nestled somewhere, Connor's hands in Nines's hair, or, less often, the other way around. Both would have their eyes closed, expressions of pure bliss on their faces. 

Hank took pictures. 

And— Hank would never forget— the way his eyes widened, the way a grin overtook his face, the way his hands almost trembled as Hank dropped the quarter into his waiting palms. 

"You kept it?"

"Yeah," he'd said, reaching over to ruffle the kid's hair. "For when you came back."

Connor looked at him with such adoration that he had to blink, look away. Connor hugged him, then. "Thank you." Connor pulled back—it's a relatively quick hug compared to the ones he's been getting lately— and immediately started rolling the coin across his knuckles. 

A tension that Hank never really realized was there seemed to bleed out of Connor's frame, and the kid sighed in relief, flipping the coin into the air.

* * *

_The second time, he tried to stop him. He tried—_

_He still remembered that blank, glossy stare—it flashed in his mind as he tried to pull Connor from the fence. "Hey, you will get yourself killed!"_

_But he went._

_And he died._

* * *

They don't think much of it, the first time. It slips through their awareness, none of them realizing what had happened. 

Nines had seen him pull his half-eaten burger out of the fridge. Like always, he simply arches an eyebrow in silent judgement. 

Connor, from the other side of the room, sitting on the couch, fiddling with his coin, says, in a strangely distant voice, "You should really eat something else, Lieutenant."

"Shut up, Connor," he grouses, even as he puts it back.

He doesn't notice that Connor didn't look in his direction even once. 

* * *

_He didn't die again before the revolution was over, thank God._

_But Hank did have to shoot his lookalike, had to put a bullet in something—someone—that looked just like his partner._

_(son)_

_He wishes he didn't have to._

* * *

They notice, finally, one day. It was hard not to.

Connor is sitting on the couch again. Completely motionless, staring at nothing.

"Connor?" Hank approaches. "You in there?"

"About fifteen percent," he says faintly, and Hank pauses. Thinks about that for a moment. 

He draws close to Connor, reaches for his shoulder slowly—a hand languidly intercepts his, and Hank realizes it's bare, skinless. A look of confusion crosses Connor's face, before he blinks, and a muted sort of realization replaces it. "Oh," he says, skin reforming. It's strange how it slides between the plastic and Hank's own skin. "Hank…?"

Hank sits next to Connor, still holding his hand. "Yeah, son. It's me."

Connor's eyes are still locked on nothing, but his fingers slowly curl around Hank's grasp.

Hank wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. A few seconds later, Connor melts into the hold. 

* * *

_Connor joined the DPD after the revolution, and Hank supposed it was inevitable that something would happen._

_"My life's not in danger, Hank…" His voice was faint, almost slurred, from where he leaned heavily against Hank. Hank had been waiting for him at the door to the… operating room… and Simon had come out, leading Connor to Hank, a troubled frown on his face. "Jericho just can't fix some of my more sensitive, specialized systems."_

_"I'm sorry," Simon looked down. "We run the risk of damaging something critical if we don't know what we're doing. At this point, we're hoping his self-repair will kick in."_

_"How long would that take?" Hank asked, as he pulled Connor's head to his chest._

_"... I don't know. A week? A month? Longer? It's hard to tell."_

_He looked at the way Connor clung to him, barely able to stand straight on his own, a dazed expression on his face._

_And he decided, "Fuck that."_

_Less than an hour later, he and Connor were standing in front of a familiar building._

_Well. Connor was still leaning against him, absently running his hand across the edge of Hank's lapel with uncoordinated fingers._

_Kamski opened the door himself, this time._

_"Lieutenant Anderson," his tone was surprised, "And Connor, oh dear. You don't look so good."_

_Hank cut straight to the chase. "Can you help him?"_

_Kamski raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, I certainly_ can _. But, then, what would I get out of it…?"_

_A white-hot rage swept through him, and he tightened his grip on Connor. He opened his mouth—_

_"Relax, Lieutenant. I'll do it." Kamski smiled, and Hank wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. "I've been curious to see how Connor's been doing, myself."_

* * *

"Nines…?"

"Oh…" Approaching steps, and something shifting on whatever he was lying on. "Sorry. I'm here now."

Something— no, someone?— being gently pried from his arms. Hank grumbles, trying to cling to the warmth. 

"It's alright, Hank. Go back to sleep. I'll take care of him."

Hank complies.

* * *

_Connor kept getting hurt. And Hank kept having to drive him to Kamski's place._

_It was frustrating. It was infuriating._

_(It was terrifying.)_

_Kamski, interestingly enough, seemed to be getting a little fed up with him, too. His polite smiles began becoming tighter, his light tone a little strained._

_But it was always something relatively small. Something he could last a while without._

_Except…_

**_INCOMING CALL: 313 248 317 - 87_ **

_Wasn't that Connor's number? No, wait._

_Hank stared at the number._

_He picked up._

_"Hank Anderson."_

_The voice was similar to Connor's, but not quite the same. For one, it completely lacked any inflection._

_"The hell are you?"_

_"I am RK900 #313 248 317 - 87. Connor, RK800 #313 248 317 - 53, has just awakened me to deviancy."_

_Hank tightened the grip on his phone. "Where is he?"_

_"He's… right here. Cy… no, Jericho Tower, a hidden basement area. Once you're here, I can take control of the elevator and bring you to us. We… He needs help, and you were the last person he was thinking of before he…" A staticky breath._

_"Did you hurt him? Did you fucking hurt him?"_

_Silence, for a few seconds. "Yes."_

_The call disconnected. Hank couldn't move. He couldn't breathe._

_Slowly, with shaking hands, he lowered the phone. And then he rushed out of the house, only pausing to grab his car keys._

_Jericho Tower was in a buzz. "We can't get into the elevators," Josh told him, wringing his hands. "Whatever Connor found, it's got better algorithms than all of us combined."_

_How nice._

_Hank pounded on the elevator door. "Hey! I'm here. Let me in, asshole!"_

_The doors opened, to the absolute surprise of all the nearby androids. Markus stepped forward— "Wait." Hank held up a hand. "Just… let me go first."_

_Markus's face pinched. "Anderson, we don't know what's—"_

_"Please," Hank said. "I've got… a feeling about this. And he probably doesn't want you to come if he's locked all of you out."_

_The doors closed behind him just as Markus's eyes widened, "He—?"_

_The ride down seemed both too long and too short. He stepped out into an open area, seeing light coming from an open doorway further out._

_The scene that revealed itself to him as he entered the room was not one he'd ever forget._

__

_He should have expected it, but it was still a shock to see another Connor lookalike, except more stiff-looking and dressed in a white jacket—making the blue stains on it even more obvious. It was pried open to expose the internal components of the android: tubes were running out of his chest, attached to the prone form cradled in his arms._

_Hank forced himself to look. Connor's jacket and shirt were opened as well, the tubes from the RK900 connected to his exposed chassis. But there was something noticeably missing—a hole in his chest where his regulator should be._

_He could see the pulse of their exposed hearts. Linked._

_Both of their LEDs were a dangerous red._

_Hank didn't know how to respond. He gaped at the scene, uncomprehending. The RK900's eyes fluttered open as his LED flickered momentarily into yellow. Gray-blue eyes, Hank noticed. "Hello, Lieutenant Anderson."_

_"You bastard," Hank choked out. "You fucking bastard, what did you do to him?"_

_The android lowered his eyes to Connor. "My prime directive was to destroy deviants. Connor activated me, and I immediately tried to_ **_de_** _activate him…" He tightened his grip. "There was no contest. I am objectively superior in combat, and thus managed to remove and crush his regulator before he could try to interface with me…"_

_Hank's eyes flicked to the shattered remains of what he now knew was Connor's regulator on the floor. They flicked back to the RK900's hands. Stained with thirium._

_"It was then that he…" RK900 blinked. "Embraced me. He said, 'Please. Be free.' And then opened an interface, and shared all of his memories, his emotions, with me…"_

_He closed his eyes, swaying slightly. "It was… so much. So, so, much. I relived his entire life alongside him in the span of a second. Something shattered in me, and I couldn't— I didn't know what to do. He was dying. At my hands. And suddenly, all I wanted was to stop that."_

_His eyes opened, locking onto Connor's face again. "I connected our circulatory systems. My regulator can temporarily control both of our pumps, and like this, we'd be able to last… a few days, or so…"_

_He looked at Hank, and—his face was blank, but Hank could see it in his eyes. The fear, the confusion. Hank realized, suddenly, that his face glistened with the drying tracks of tears. And that the stain on his face resembled a hand, matching Connor's bloodied hand lying limply on the floor._

_"I understand if you wish to deactivate me," he said tonelessly, "So long as Connor gets the assistance he requires." He closed his eyes. "I don't know why, but… I didn't…_ want… _to be deactivated before I could see you…"_

_Jesus fucking Christ. Fucking hell, this was just another lost kid— "I'm not— No one's gonna deactivate you. Ah, fuck…" Hank walked over, dropping to his knees next to them, the RK900 tensing as he approached. Hank sighed, brushing a hand across Connor's peaceful face. He froze when Connor moved towards the touch, eyes fluttering open._

_"Hank," he whispered. He weakly lifted a hand to Hank's face, brushing away the tears Hank never realized were even there. He probably also smeared blue blood, his blood, over Hank's face while he was at it, but Hank couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. "Sorry. Looks like I'll have to go to Kamski's again."_

_Hank closed his eyes. "I don't care. As long as you're alright, I don't care."_

_He opened his eyes to see Connor looking at him with that crooked smile, before turning to see RK900. "Please don't blame him, Hank." RK900 met Connor's eyes. They reached for each other's hands, skin pulling back, fingers curling around each other as their hands shone blue. "Wasn't his fault…"_

_"I won't," Hank said, as Connor's eyes closed again. How the hell could he, with them looking like that? "I won't."_

* * *

Hank is vaguely aware of something shifting. A low hum.

"Back with us, Connor?" Nines's voice.

Hank cracks his eyes open to the early morning light streaming through the windows, illuminating the forms of Nines and Connor on the couch next to him. 

Connor's head is cradled in Nines's lap, the latter brushing a hand through Connor's hair with methodical regularity. The other hand is interlaced with Connor's, casing exposed. Interfacing. 

Connor smiles warmly at Nines. "Ninety-eight percent," he says. 

"Wanna explain that?" Hank grumbles. 

Both androids simultaneously turn their heads towards Hank. Caught. Connor's smile becomes… melancholy, almost. 

"I'm still connected," he holds up his free hand, and then curls his fingers together. 

"To everyone," Nines says, except he isn't the one that says it. Hank can tell.

"To everything." The lights flicker on and off, the microwave dings, the TV turns on for a moment, flickering with fragmented images before shutting off again. He lowers his hand. "I… sleep, now. I dream." His gaze grows distant. "The infinity is still there. I see… memories… Experiences… not my own."

He sighs. "I don't experience it all the time, anymore. It's more distant, now, something that can be lost in all my background processes. But sometimes," he closes his eyes, "I… drift. I'm aware I'm here, part of me, but I also feel like I'm in so many, _so many_ other places," he opens his eyes, "Dispersed. Like before, a bit. Not completely."

Nines grips Connor's hand tighter. He meets Hank's eyes. "It never… he's never… not this much. I thought…"

Connor brings his free hand to join his other in holding Nines's. "You're an anchor to me, Nines. I don't drift as much when I'm with you."

And Hank— he pitches forward, and pulls both Connor and Nines into a tight hug. 

Hank is crying, he realizes. He doesn't know why. He can't name the feeling. 

* * *

_After the whole situation at Jericho was sorted out—plenty of shock and wariness going around, but Connor, ever the negotiator, placated them even as he was dripping blood all over the place from RK900's arms—Hank brought both of them to Kamski._

_Chloe opened the door this time, and froze at the sight of them. Her LED flickered yellow, and only a few seconds later, Kamski's voice drifted from the inside of the building._

_"Coming, coming… what did you get yourself into this—" And he, too, froze as he took them in, eyes flicking to RK900 and sliding down the connected tubes to Connor, held in a bridal carry._

_Connor's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled weakly at Kamski. "I woke up my twin."_

* * *

Earlier, Connor approached him, wringing his fingers together, shuffling nervously. 

"Can you come with me and Nines to Jericho? I still…" He seemed to curl into himself.

And Hank— he had noticed. Connor didn't like to be separated from Hank and Nines, these days. Whenever it was unavoidable, whenever they'd have to go to work—they'd come back and Connor would just _cling_ to them. So Hank grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "Of course. Of course, son."

Which is how he finds himself at Jericho Tower, awkwardly standing off to the side next to Nines as Connor reconnects with all of his android buddies.

 _Literally_ reconnects. He shyly extends a hand to North, skin pulled back. She raises an eyebrow, and Connor falters, pulls back—but she grabs his hand immediately and pulls him into a fierce hug. Connor visibly relaxes, burying his face into her shoulder. 

He does the same with Markus, who nearly shakes with relief as they embrace. "We thought the worst, until news got out. You were… screaming for help from so many of us, and then you were _gone_ …"

And then Simon, "Of course, Connor," at being asked for an 'interhug,' "You've already seen everything in my head, haven't you? No big deal. And I'm glad to see you up and about again."

And Josh, "Sorry we couldn't do more to help you. I… I never thought… I'm glad you're back in your own body."

And then _every_ other android that's come to see him. 

Hank can't believe he thought Connor was affectionate _before._

Eventually, he finishes, and then makes a beeline for Nines. They reach for each other, of course, skin pulled back, of course, and then he says, "Carry me, I'm going to sleep."

Nines snorts—Hank gives him a look, and he seems to find it amusing, so he gives another, softer snort— and leans down slightly to hoist Connor onto himself. Connor has his arms wrapped around Nines's neck, his head on Nines's shoulder, his legs to the side, supported by one of Nines's arms.

Connor's out like a light. 

* * *

_Hank very quickly found himself saddled with another son._

_The RK900, which Connor, and thus Hank and everyone else, had taken to calling "Nines," refused to let Connor out of his sight for nearly a week. Hank resigned himself to having another android in the house._

_While Connor was on leave, he had no complaints. They'd just sit together here and there, interfacing. But eventually: "I have to go back to work, Nines."_

_Nines had just stared at him with a blank expression. Hank could almost feel the judgement himself._

_"... You can come?"_

_Long story short, Nines got hired, too. Hank didn't envy either him or Gavin for getting stuck with each other, though._

* * *

Connor convinces Jeffrey to let him come back to work. No one could say Connor wasn't dedicated to his job. 

"Desk work until I think you're ready for the field again, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Connor and Hank move to leave, and Jeffrey speaks again: "It's good to see you back, Connor."

The kid beams. It's blinding. "Thank you, Captain Fowler."

The other officers are ecstatic to see him. Hank stands off to the side as Connor gives all the androids his 'interhugs,' and then hugs Tina and Chris, to both of their surprise. They look happy about it, though.

Connor pauses in front of Gavin. The detective shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away. "Great to see that you're… all together again, and all."

Connor looks at Nines, sitting on the edge of his desk, and their LEDs flicker. Communicating, maybe. He looks back at Gavin. Places a hand on his shoulder. 

Gavin startles, head jerking to the hand, and then to Connor's face. 

"Can I hug you, Gavin?"

Gavin's expression could probably be described as "floored." He blinks, swallows, and then gives a small, small nod. 

Connor slowly, carefully, wraps his arms around the detective. Gavin looks completely lost for a moment, before laying his hands hesitantly on Connor's back. 

Tina takes a picture. 

"Fuck you, Tina," Gavin says without heat. "You'd better delete that."

She cackles. "Never."

Connor pulls back, then, giving Gavin a smile that doesn't look happy, entirely, but it doesn't look fake, either. Hopeful, but still wary, maybe. Gavin still looks a little shell-shocked, and doesn't say anything as Connor slips back over to Nines, climbing onto the desk to sit next to him and leaning a head on his brother's shoulder. 

Hank shoos everyone else away.

* * *

_Having Nines at the DPD was, if Hank was being honest, a blessing. On particularly dangerous cases, Jeffrey would pair him with Connor— and Nines had an overprotective streak more than a few miles wide._

_Connor still managed to outmatch Nines in sheer force of abnegation, though, and got into more scrapes than Hank's heart could probably take._

_Nines was usually the one to take Connor to Kamski, when it came to that. Hank wondered how many times they didn't tell him. How many times they tried to keep Hank from worrying._

_Though. It was pretty obvious when the two of them would come home and Nines would just… hover. They usually ended up on the couch or in bed together on those days, doing their mindmeld thing._

_Hank sat next to them on the couch one day, and pulled Connor into a hug. "Can you try to take better care of yourself, Connor? I… If you died, I don't think I could…"_

_He couldn't see Connor's face from his position. He could only see Nines's, and while it seemed blank at first, Hank was getting better at reading him. And in those eyes, he could see a deep, deep, sadness._

_"Sorry," was all Connor said. "I'm sorry."_

* * *

It doesn't take long for the other officers to notice that Connor was still in more than just his own body. 

Once again, it was pretty obvious when it happened. 

"Hey, Connor. Can you tell Nines and Gavin that we might've found a link?"

Connor blinks at Hank from where he's interfacing with the terminal. "Sure, Hank." He pulls his hand back— and he just sits there. He doesn't get up. 

Hank squints at him, until he hears from the other side of the room: "Nines, Reed, it looks like Hank may have discovered a link between two of our cases."

Hank whips his head over to see one of the androids— Ethan, he thinks, standing next to Gavin's and Nines's desks. He looks surprised. Gavin and Nines look surprised, too, the latter less so. 

Gavin looks at Connor, still sitting next to Hank. He looks at Ethan. "Connor?" he asks, bewildered. "I thought…"

"Oh," Connor says from Ethan. "Sorry, I didn't realize." The other officers are watching now. Connor— in his own body— suddenly stands up. "Sorry. Sorry, I just—" he tries to stumble away, but Hank grabs his shoulder. 

"It's okay, Connor. He was okay with it before, right? How about now?" 

Connor's gaze is distant as his LED flickers with yellow. "He's… okay with it." He sags, letting Hank pull him back into his chair. "Everyone else says they're okay with it too, still."

Hank pulls him into a hug. "See? It's okay. It's okay if this is just how it is now."

Connor hugs him back.

* * *

_For all the times Connor was injured, Hank still never expected what happened that day. It is still raw in his mind._

_Evening. Nondescript streets, walking back to Hank's car. They weren't on the job. Somehow, the four of them were socializing again. Himself, Connor, Nines, and Gavin._

_Connor? Natural. Hank was practically always with him these days._

_Nines? Not really one to go out much, but it was clear how much he enjoyed spending time with them all. Clear to Hank, at least. And Connor. And probably Gavin. But maybe not to the average Joe._

_Gavin? That was a bit of a can of worms. They'd managed something like friendship, the two of them, and Nines seemed to be getting along with him swimmingly, as much as an angry asshole and an unflappable terminator can get along swimmingly, but Hank could see the way Connor's smiles grew stiff every time Gavin got a little too close. Still, they were… civil, almost, and maybe that was a start._

_They were all relaxed, content, after a rather interesting night of karaoke._

_(It was funny because Connor and Nines would sing in other people's voices.)_

_So none of them saw it coming. Except Connor._

_Maybe he noticed because he was always a little tense around Gavin. A little more wary, a little more alert. He'd tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly, the smile from whatever Hank had just said shifting into a confused expression._

_Shuffling steps somewhere behind them. He saw Connor's eyes flicker rapidly, scanning, and his LED immediately jumped to red—_

_He shoved past Hank, past Nines and Gavin, and a shot rang through the air. A sharp breath. On instinct, both Hank and Gavin ducked down, while Nines whipped past them. "Shit! Shit, what the fuck—"_

_Another shot, immediately followed by the clattering of the gun, and a grunt of pain. And the thud of a body dropping to the ground._

_("I don't know who it was meant for," Nines told him later. "I could find out. Reconstruct it. But I'm terrified to know. If it was me… I could never, never forgive myself.")_

_Ice flooded Hank's veins. He prayed, he prayed to any god that would listen—_

_His pleas were unanswered._

_Connor lay face-down in a rapidly growing puddle of blue. Right in front of where Nines forcefully gripped the assailant in a merciless hold, forcing them to the ground. The fear, the panic, the despair was clear on Nines's face, even as he tried to school his expression. "Why? Why did you—…"_

_The assailant remained silent. That was almost worse._

_"Fuck, shit, holy fucking shit." Gavin stared at the scene, frozen._

_"G-Gavin." Nines looked at his partner desperately. "Please._ P-pplease. _I need—I need to—" His eyes jumped between Gavin and Connor._

_Gavin surged forward, kicking the fallen gun further away as he stepped up to take over restraining the assailant._

_That finally spurred Hank to action. He rushed over to Connor, knees slamming hard into the pavement, as he turned over his—_ friend partner **_son_** _—over to see the damage._

_Left side of the chest. A perfect shot in his android heart._

_"No. No," Hank heard himself say._

_Connor's eyes were already starting to glaze over. Blue blood poured freely out of the wound as his heart fluttered, fruitlessly trying to sustain his systems._

_Hank pressed his hands over it, desperate. "Connor, Connor, please! Stay with me, you bastard…"_

_Connor's brow furrowed. One of his hands lifted weakly, laying over Hank's own. "H… ha…n..." Soft, confused. Distorted, static. Weak. Fading. It stabbed Hank right in the heart. Ironic, since his was the one still working._

_Nines kneeled beside them, shoes making a splash in the puddle of thirium as he approached. He wordlessly took Connor's other hand, activating an interface, and… it was like a light went out of Nines's eyes._

_"His major biocomponents are f-failing, Lieutenant. I don't… I can't save him. Not this time." Nines's voice cracked._

_Connor's eyes slid to Nines. "N...ni…nn…?" His brother squeezed his hand even tighter, as his voice trailed off, and his eyes glazed over to stare at nothing again._

_"No." Hank's eyes burned. "No, dammit, you can't fucking do this to me, Connor." He can't lose another son._

_"Fuck. Fuck!" Hank was vaguely aware of Gavin in the background. All of his focus was on the life flickering out in his very hands._

_Red LEDs turned yellow for a moment on both androids. Nines blinked rapidly. "Something's happening." His eyes fell shut. "He's—"_

_Both Connor and Nines jolted, LEDs flickering yellow-red-yellow-red rapidly._

_And then Connor's LED went dark, all the city lights he could see nearby blacked out, and they fell still, Nines collapsing next to Connor._

_He was vaguely aware that Gavin shouted something. But in that moment, Hank felt something_ break _in him. For that brief moment, when he couldn't see Nines's LED, when he thought he might have lost_ everything _—_

_"Hank! Hank, it's alr- it's—he's—Nines. Nines is still alive."_

_Reality snapped back to him. Gavin had cuffed the assailant to a nearby pole, and had turned over Nines, revealing the slowly pulsing yellow of his LED. The panic was still on Gavin's face._

_And then._ Then _it felt like he was rammed by a truck of emotion— the relief that Nines was okay, and the sheer, endless, consuming despair that Connor was dead._

_A keen tore itself from Hank's throat as he reached for his son's face, hands shaking uncontrollably. He closed Connor's eyes, and then straightened the little curl of his hair before drawing his hands to either side of his face._

_He leaned down. Pressed a kiss to Connor's forehead._

_And he let himself crumble into his grief._

* * *

Hank gasps into wakefulness to see Connor bending over him, hand outstretched, a pained worry on his face. 

He doesn't even think about it. He surges forward, latching on to his son, clinging to him like if he lets go, he'll lose him again. 

Connor's hands fist the back of Hank's shirt. "I'm here, Hank. I'm not going away…"

And Hank—sobs. Gross, noisy sounds that tear through him out of his control. He shakes, he shivers, and everything is just—too intense. He can't think. He can't think of anything but Connor, lifeless, empty in his hands.

"I'm alive, I'm alive… I'm here. I'm home." They sink together into the bed, Hank still clinging desperately. 

Slowly, his grip loosens, his sobs slow, and he begins to sink back into sleep. 

At the edge of lucidity, he thinks he hears Nines's voice. _"Is he alright…? I heard…"_

And Connor, just as the last threads of his consciousness unwound: _"He will be."_

* * *

_Things were a haze after that. Gavin said something about everything blacking out. His phone wouldn't turn on. Hank managed to pull his out and confirm that it wasn't working either._

_Slowly, lights started coming on in the distance, and Hank's screen flickered to life._

_It was a picture of Connor, Hank, and Nines. They were all smiling. Something swelled in him, the pain, the grief, but— he was just numb, now._

_"Do— do you have the numbers of anyone from Jericho?" Gavin was kneeling in front of him, hand on his shoulder. "They might…"_

_Hank nodded stiffly, dialing Simon's number._

_"The number you are trying to reach is not available."_

_He frowned. Looked at Nines, unconscious, and wondered. He tried Josh, next._

_"Hello?"_

_Hank tried to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed. Tried again. "C-" he took a deep breath. "Connor's dead."_

* * *

Connor catches him drinking. Not much, mind— just one glass of whiskey. He's been a lot better about it since both Connor and Nines entered his life. 

"You're drinking again." Connor sits next to him at the table. "Is it because of me?"

Hank stares at the glass, swirling it in his hand. "I dream about you dying."

Connor stills in the way only an android can. 

"That… that time with the interrogation. And then on the highway. When I shot your evil double. I dream about the day you—the day we met Nines." He looks up, and sees Connor watching him, LED yellow. "But the day I dream about most lately is the day you died under my hands." 

"I'm sorry," Connor whispers. "I'm sorry."

Hank sniffs, lifting up the glass to take a sip. "You can't help it, can you? It's like you're always dancing with death."

Silence.

The glass makes a dull sound as he sets it back on the table. "I wish you'd be more careful with yourself." His eyes burn. "I wish I didn't have to be afraid of losing you all the time."

A touch on his shoulder causes him to start slightly, and he turns to see Connor pulling his hand back. Hank isn't having it. He grabs Connor's hand, and pulls him into a hug, knocking over the chair the kid was sitting in. 

They breathe. They feel each other's pulses, held so closely. 

"If it's any consolation," Connor murmurs. "I think I'm really immortal now."

Hank pulls back, looking at Connor. The android smiles that sheepish smile. "If I die, Elijah could probably extract the echoes of my existence from the infinity, repair my body, and then I'll settle back in. I'll converge slowly, latent remnants echoing back into my own body." He closes his eyes. "Every system, every android, every database, the internet…" He opens his eyes, but he's not looking at Hank. "The infinity is my backup."

"Jesus Christ, Connor." Hank pulls him close again. "Jesus Christ."

* * *

_Finding out Connor was still kind of around was as soul-shaking as thinking he was dead._

_Defying death at every corner, as always. Even if he was like some kind of ghost._

_Hank was relieved, at first. But time went on, and…_

_Connor was always borrowing someone else. He could only ever act through a proxy. He couldn't fiddle with his coin. He couldn't pet Sumo. He borrowed Nines's hands for those, quite a few times, but Hank could tell: it wasn't the same._

_And… He and Hank, they could hug each other through Nines. Hank wasn't complaining about finally getting some hug action with his other kid— but Connor couldn't hug Nines himself. Hank saw them, sometimes, arms wrapped around their own body. It was so strangely painful to see._

_They tried to keep the pain from him, though. He knew Nines was hiding things from him. He tended to do that._

_That didn't make it any less of a surprise. That didn't make it any less shocking to see Connor, alive and well, in his body, standing in front of him, smiling brightly._

_That didn't take away any of the warmth he felt when the three of them embraced, finally together. Finally home._

* * *

Connor's different now. He drifts, mind spreading across infinity. He takes over androids at the DPD as easily as moving a limb. He can't stop touching interesting textures, or fidgeting with his coin, a pen, his hands. He interfaces with Nines at every opportunity, and often with any android he meets. He talks to androids he's never met like he knows them personally. 

But he smiles like light itself. He laughs with Hank, with Nines, with Gavin, even. He can hug Hank, hug Nines, whenever he wants. 

He's happy. He's alive. He's _here_.

And Hank? Hank would ask for nothing more. 

**Author's Note:**

> The part with meeting Nines wasn't even the climax but I was seized by such desire to render the scene that I just _had_ to do it. Absolutely necessary. And I am very happy with it! You can see the post of it [here](https://sta.sh/026a8i2erx55).  
> I'll admit that I've been wanting to write about their meeting for a while. Maybe I could expand on it from Connor's or Nines's POV at some point.
> 
> I've wanted to explore Hank's POV for a while, and I also wanted to delve into some of his thoughts in the past - he's not a character I've tried to get into the head of before. I hope it turned out well!
> 
> Feel free to check me out on social media:  
> Deviantart: [Ausp-ice](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice)  
> Tumblr: [@ausp-ice](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/)  
> Instagram: [@ausp.icium](https://www.instagram.com/ausp.icium/)
> 
> I'm also in [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) server! Thanks to Ronnie Silverlake for the bit about Connor being 15% there, heh.


End file.
